


Schi Heil

by NYWCgirl



Category: White Collar
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4963360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYWCgirl/pseuds/NYWCgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is on the trail of one Neal Caffrey and it has led him to Switzerland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schi Heil

**Author's Note:**

> This story fills the ´hostile climate´ square on my h/c bingo card.

Peter was an agent obsessed. He had gotten the file of a brilliant forger/art thief on his desk. Nobody had wanted it at the time and he had liked the challenge. He had been on James Bonds tail for over a year now and was convinced this time, he would find out who this thief was, they still didn´t have a picture or positive ID, but Peter was convinced it was only a matter of time. James Bonds was a sort of ghost that committed crimes. Peter had placed feelers out in different agencies around the world and it had paid off.

Interpol had contacted him that there had been a theft from the Stanguellini museum in Modena, Italy. The car that was stolen, a 750 Sport Internazionale was priceless and everything pointed at the thief Peter had flagged. The car was spotted crossing the border of Switzerland and then nothing. It had vanished.

Peter was convinced that a thief like James Bonds would like to celebrate the theft and being in Switzerland during ski season, he would probably go skiing, so he had Interpol check out various ski resorts and the most likely had to be Zermatt, where the rich and famous resided in winter.

 

* * *

 

Peter convinced El they needed a vacation. El had been skeptical as Peter wasn´t a holiday person and always placed work before pleasure, so she had a suspicion that he wanted to go to Europe to chase this thief he had been hunting for almost a year now. But who was she to say now to a nice ski holiday in Europe.

So they took a Swiss Air flight to Zürich, some two hundred and fifty kilometers from Zermatt. And a couple of hours later they were standing in front of the Grand Hotel Zermatterhof, a five star classic luxury hotel, according to Peter´s Interpol contact. Interpol was paying the hotel as they were convinced Peter was their best bet in arresting this thief.

They settled in as Mister and Misses Wilson from upstate New York and immediately went to bed, the jet lag was killing.

 

* * *

 

Peter had no idea how to start looking for his thief. Zermatt wasn´t a big town, the file he was given by Interpol, mentioned about 5800 inhabitants, but during the ski season, this amount could easily double or triple. So he decided to play the rich tourist and see what happened.

The next day, after breakfast, Peter and El made their way to the local ski school, but as they neared the building, a man dressed in a ski outfit from that ski school waved at them. When he walked up to them, he took of his sunglasses.

“Guten tag, mein Name ist Konstantin, ich bin ihren Schiführer.“ Neal introduced himself.

“Hi, we are Peter and Elizabeth Wilson.” Both Peter and El extended their hand out. Their ski teacher shook them, giving them a thousand watt smile. Without a problem he switched to English.

“You are Americans, toll. First time in Switzerland?”

Peter noticed that Konstantin´s English was almost flawless; it even had an American accent to it. He had a familiar face. But Peter couldn´t remember of he had really seen Konstantin before.

“Haven´t we met?”

“Is this your first time in Zermatt?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is improbable that we have ever met.” Neal lied easily.

“Are you experienced skiers or apprentices?”

“We both know how to ski, but we would like some tips from a professional to improve ourselves.”

“OK, did you bring your own skies or should we rent some? I can get you a great deal at the local ski rent. Especially for a nice couple as yourselves.” Neal smiled at Elizabeth.

Peter could see that El was charmed as he saw a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Yeah, let´s go, before my wife doesn´t want to ski anymore.” Peter answered annoyed.

They quickly made their way to the store and as promised, Neal got them a good deal, so they were all set. After paying for the ski passes, Peter was thinking what the limit on his Visa was and that he was hungry.

And as if Neal could read his thoughts, Neal voiced “Let´s go up the mountain and have a bite to eat there, you will love the panorama. You brought your camera, El? You mind if I call you El?” Neal gave her his most charming smile. Peter rolled his eyes.

“No, not at all, Peter also calls me El.”

Were all ski teachers this forward or was it something European? Peter thought.

“Yes, I brought my camera, let´s get going.” El giggled like a teenager, making Peter sigh.

They took the gondella to Riffelalp station and after a short walk they were in the Alphitta. Peter was glad to be inside, as it was really cold outside. Inside a nice fire was going in the fire pit and the cabin was cozy decorated in the traditional red and white checkered fabrics with furs and deer antlers on the walls.

“You are Swiss, Konstantin. You order for us.” Peter suggested.

“OK.”

“Wir möchten gerne Alplermagronen und eine Flasche Ihrer besten Weine bestellen.”

Ten minutes later, a waiter brought their order and placed it in front of them.

“Before I start, I would like to know what I´m eating.” Peter said in all earnest.

“Well, Alplermagronen is a kind of gratin with potatoes, macaroni, cheese, cream and onions and next to it is stewed apple, you´re supposed to eat it together. It is real ski food.”

Well, it certainly looked good and Peter was really hungry.

 “Bon appétit.” “Is it the same as in English?” El wondered. “It is French, and as you know, we speak two languages in Switzerland, German and French.” After the voluptuous meal, Peter was reluctant to ski, but they were here and they needed to pretend to be tourists, so eventually, they left the cabin and got on their skies and skied down. It had been a long time since El and Peter skied, but Neal gave them some helpful pointers on how to improve their technique. Around half pasted three, Neal called it and they left the slope, the gondellas would stop within half an hour and it would get crowded on the slope to ski down, so they entered one of the champagne bars.Peter glanced around unhappily, but El was OK with Neal´s choice. He ordered them a Veuve Cliquot with a Swiss absinth on the side. He told them, they had to try it, as it was an acquired taste, but very nice.After that, he left the couple alone and decided to walk towards the car parking before driving to the chalet he had rented.This was fun, he thought, he could play a bit with the FBI agent and his wife, while he waited to be paid by his patron.  * * *

 

Over the next two days, Neal took them skiing and Peter´s technique definitely improved. Neal was sort of proud that he had taught Peter Burke how to be a better skier. Maybe he would come back next ski season and pretend to be a ski teacher to the rich and famous, it must make a good con. If he played his cards right, he and Mozzie could live a comfortable life here in Switzerland. Neal was enjoying himself. But he had to be careful Peter didn´t catch up. When Neal learned that agent Burke was in Zermatt, he wanted to see for himself that he was there. Mozzie had warned Neal that he wasn´t a stray puppy who you could play with without repercussions. But Neal only saw It as a challenge to see if he could ruffle Peter´s feathers.

 

* * *

 

Peter and El were having dinner in the hotel when Peter suddenly realized something. Konstantin´s car keys. The key fob! It was of the Stanguellini Museum. It could of course be a coincidence but Peter doubted it. There had been this gut feeling that something was wrong with Konstantin, but Peter had thought it was that Konstantin´s flirting with El. But over the days Peter had learned that Konstantin flirted with everyone, women, men, he was charming on every occasion, always getting what he wanted.

But he had to check it out, he would follow Konstantin tomorrow. The problem was, how was he going to follow Neal, because he didn´t have a car. Zermatt was a car free town. Konstantin took the little train to the large car parking outside the town. He would tackle that problem when it arose. Mind set, he focused back on El. He could at least give here a good time while they were here.

 

* * *

 

Peter made sure he was up very early. He knew Konstantin would have to open the shed where his skies were stored. He would probably have that key on his key fob. He waited at the shed, and he was right, there was Konstantin.

“Good morning Peter.”

“Good morning Konstantin.”

Neal took out his keys and he noticed Peter studying them. Shit, the key, the fob. Peter must have figured it out. Shit, shit, shit, Neal realized now Peter knew what Neal Caffrey looked like. He had to play it cool. By the looks of it Peter was still not really sure. He wouldn´t make a move until he was absolutely sure. So Neal decided to play along. If he had a moment, he would call Mozzie and tell him to pack their stuff.

He grabbed his skis and asked Peter if El was coming.

“Nah, she is taking a spa day in the hotel.”

“Good choice. They have an excellent Alpine-spa.”

“Yeah, that is what she said too, I guess she will probably max out my credit card.”

“Probably. OK then, let´s do some real skiing. I suggest we go to the Stockhorn, it is a black run, but I guess you are up to it.” Neal grabbed his gear and started walking towards the gondolas.

 

* * *

 

When they were standing on top of the run, Peter started doubting if he was up to this. He should never have let Neal lead him up the mountain. On the other side, he liked the challenge.

“Neal, you sure, I can do this?”

“No problem. But remember, there are crevasses as well as a risk for avalanches. Just stay with me and it will be OK.”

Neal started off and Peter followed him. Peter had to admit, the views were stunning and the slope was a bit traitorous but he had a good time. Neal knew what he was doing and he was an expert skier. So for now he would enjoy their trip down.

They stopped in a stube on the slope for a hot cocoa with Rum to warm up a bit before going further downhill. Neal asked if Peter was up to go on. They walked out of the stube and Neal fastened his helmet when Peter mentioned he was peckish. Neal felt in his pocket and took out a Sooishi granola bar. He handed it to Peter.

The moment Peter took the bar, Neal could see something dawning in Peter. He recognized him. He had played with fire and now…

 

 

 

When Neal realized Peter was on to him, he wanted to ski away from Peter. He was confident he could easily make it. Peter was a good skier, but not as experienced as Neal, and certainly not a dare devil, so he would make it if he would go through the tief snee, where there were a lot of buggels. So Neal set off gaining momentum and speed. He was now sure he would get away clean.

It wasn´t until he heard the thunderous noise behind him, he realized too late that Peter had offset an avalanche in trying to keep up with Neal. He stopped to see where Peter was and tried to ski back to him, all the while shouting at Peter to keep skiing to the side. He could see Peter tried but wasn´t going to clear the avalanche.

Neal also tried to out-ski the avalanche and get to Peter, and they were almost out of danger, when the avalanche caught up on them.

 

* * *

 

Mozzie was sitting in their luxurious chalet reading up for their next heist, he just took a break and was looking outside through the large windows. He never knew what people were thinking going in the cold, doing sports that could disable them for the rest of their lives. It was a discussion he never won with Neal.

Suddenly there was an ominous sound, it was the rumbling sound of an avalanche, when moments later an alarm sounded in the valley, Mozzie got in full gear. He had a feeling this involved Neal, he couldn´t tell how he knew, but he knew. He grabbed the material he needed and made his way to the rescue station to help.

By the time he arrived, several volunteers had already reported in and the professionals were gearing up with their dogs.

They quickly made their way up the mountain with a snow cat and snow mobiles. Mozzie knew that Neal had a Recco300 in his ski jacket and helmet, so he told the rescue leader, who quickly grabbed the radar system so they could precisely pinpoint the victim´s location.

With the help of the locator it didn´t take long for them to find the location where Neal was in the avalanche. But still twenty minutes had passed since the avalanche occurred. Would they still be alive? The rescuers started digging when one of the dogs started barking and scratching the snow about fifty meters from where they found the recco signal.

Neal was the first to resurface. He had probably tried to stay on top of the avalanche when it had hit him by making swimming motions. He was unconscious and already moderately hypothermic, he was pale, alarmingly pale, his lips were blue and Mozzie feared the worst.

When they tried to pull Neal towards them, they received a gut wrenching scream, so everybody stilled and they started digging further to see what the damage was. The source of Neal´s paleness was soon identified. Blood was sipping from his leg, the doctor present diagnosed it as an open femoral shaft fracture. He started a tourniquet and stabilized the leg. The pain had woken Neal and he looked around in confusion.

“Mozzie?” he croaked?

“Yeah, Neal, I´m here. You are going to be OK, lay still, you have a nasty fracture.”

“Peter?” Neal face was growing tight from exhaustion and pain.

“We are digging him out as we speak. Rest, we are going to air lift you to hospital.”

“I…” but then he had to grinned his teeth, as he was lifted on to a backboard to be carried to the helicopter. He lost consciousness somewhere during the transport.

 

In the mean time, they dug Peter out. It looked like he had a head wound where probably one of skies had hit him in the back of the head. He was also unconscious. They wrapped him up in foil blankets and quickly carried him over to the helicopter as well.

 

* * *

 

Once in hospital everything happened in a blurr for Neal and in hindsight he was glad it did. He was in too much pain to really to be able to focus on anything else. Once they arrived at the hospital, and Neal was wheeled into the ER, he got a look at his leg and almost fainted by the look of it. The leg was blue, almost black and there was a bony piece sticking out of his skin. He needed surgery and was almost immediately prepped. He was thankful when he heard one of the staff ask “Zählen Sie rückwärts von zehn bitte.”

 

* * *

 

When Neal woke up, he felt fine, his head though felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Drugs, his mind provided him… You are on the good stuff and probably a world of pain if you weren´t drugged.

He opened his eyes and blinked against the light. A blurry form came slowly into focus.

“Hey Mozz.” Was that slurry voice, his?

“Hey Neal. How are you feeling?”

“Great.”

“I bet, the amount of pain killers they are pumping into you will do that to you.”

“What is the damage?”

“The doctor did an intramedullary nailing.”

“He did what?” Neal´s brain wasn´t up to processing this kind of information.

“He placed a titanium rod in your femoral shaft to keep all the bits and pieces of your upper leg together.”

“OK, too much information.” Neal felt himself dozing off again, he was sort of disconnected from his feelings.

“Go to sleep, Neal. I will take care of things.” Mozzie sighed.

 

* * *

 

When Neal woke up this time, he was in pain. When he thought about it, it had been the pain that had woken him. He looked around and saw he was no longer in the hospital room, but he was lying in a bed in what looked like a ski cabin.

He need to pee, so he flipped the blankets and tried to move but stopped when pain shot through him. He couldn´t contain the cry.

He heard some running in the hall way and it was Mozzie who burst through the door.

“Neal, you are awake. You can´t move, OK?”

“But I need to pee.” Neal stated dryly.

“Use the urinal bottle, it is next to you.”

Neal looked over to the table next to his bed and there it was. He grabbed it and with no shame he used it, this was not a time to be shy. He really needed to pee. Mozzie already had left the room, so it was OK.

When he was done, he closed the lid and Mozzie came back in and took it from him to empty it.

“What is the prognosis?”

“The doctor said it would take four to six months to completely heal, maybe longer as the fracture was open and your leg broken into several pieces. The doctor gave instructions to stay off the leg for at least three days, then you can start moving, but it is crucial you use a walker. I contacted a physical therapist that will consult in two days, and we will see what he says.”

“Are you up to eating something? I made some chicken soup. You should eat, as you are on strong antibiotics to prevent infection in the fracture as the skin was pierced.”

Mozzie walked over to the adjacent bathroom and came back with a very small syringe in his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“You can do it yourself if you want, it is anticoagulant. You need to be careful for blood clots with a fracture as bad as yours. You need one every day, it goes in your stomach. You want to do it yourself?”

“No, you do it.”

Mozzie pinched some flesh of Neal stomach, which was more difficult as Neal was lean, and pushed the syringe in and out again. Neal hitched his breath as it was very uncomfortable.

“The doctor also told me to watch for altered consciousness or convulsions, short for a fat embolism. So, if you feel strange, how minute it may be, let me know. Fat embolisms can kill you even days after the trauma occurred, so tell me, OK?”

“Sure. I will, but can I get something for the pain now. My head hurts, hell, my whole body hurts, it feels like I have been racked.”

“Yeah, an avalanche will do that to you. I will get you some soup. Relax, rest.”

When Mozzie came back with his soup, some delicious smelling chicken soup that made his stomach growl, he had to admit he could move much, everything hurt too much. Mozzie handed him the remote to the bed. Wow, Mozzie had thought about everything. He needed to find a way to thank Mozzie for all the good care. He adjusted the head of the bed and groaned while his body was moved in a more upright position.

“How is Peter?”

“The suit? He is doing OK, last time I heard. He had a moderate concussion, a broken arm, but it was a simple break, sprained his ankle and tore his ligaments on his knee. So he will be incapacitated for a couple of weeks at least. He was repatriated back to the States by his wife, but he is supposed to heal completely.”

“Good, and where are we?

“We are still in Switzerland, I didn´t want to transport you too far in this condition. We are in a remote ski lodge, it has state of the art surveillance.”

Neal started eating the delicious soup with homemade bread. Mozzie didn´t allow him coffee, so he settled for some ginger/orange tea with honey. After his meal, Neal started fading and Mozzie told him to sleep some more.

 

* * *

 

When Peter woke up, he immediately knew he was in hospital. He was lying in the bed, and he could feel a strange stiffness on several limbs. He did his best to open his eyes, but the light was too bright and he moaned.

“Hey hon.”

El, she was here. Peter could feel himself relax. What had happened.

“You with us honey?”

He wanted to nod, but the moment he couldn´t really move his head.

“Yeah” he whispered.

“Good, rest, are you in pain?”

“Yes.”

“OK, I will ask the nurse to give you some more pain medication.”

“Thanks.”

Peter heard someone else entering the room.

“Good afternoon mister Burke, how are you feeling, on a scale of 0 to 10, where is the pain?”

“8?”

“OK, I will push some more pain killers. You were lucky mister Burke.”

Peter didn´t feel lucky, he felt like he had been hit by a train. What had happened?

“What happened?” he slurred.

He could feel the pain fading to the background.

“You were caught up in an avalanche.”

“Avalanche?” Peter asked.

“No worries mister Burke, it is common in a moderate to severe concussion to have a bit of memory loss. It will come back to you.”

Peter could feel himself falling asleep again. He wanted to tell El not to worry, but he was already out before the words reached his mouth.

 

* * *

 

The physical therapist Mozzie had contacted turned out to be very good in what he did, he didn´t lie to Neal, he was in for a very difficult recuperation and it would time before he would be able to put weight on his leg. He explained that the primary focus would be to strengthening the leg and to train Neal´s gait. He explained that he would have Neal do aerobic training in the swimming pool once Neal´s symptoms permit it. When Neal looked in confusion, Mozzie told him the chalet had an indoor pool. Mozzie had known Neal would need to rebuild the strength in his leg and swimming was always good and something Neal liked.

The therapist massaged the leg and had help Neal up from the bed and learned Neal how to do it in a safe way and how to properly use the walker. Neal was happy to be out of bed, he was already getting bored and it would be weeks, hell, even months before he could do anything worthwhile.

Mozzie had brought in art supplies, DVD´s and books. Neal couldn´t go out, with the ice and snow outside, it would be too dangerous.

But Neal also had to admit that the chalet had a gorgeous view. When he opened the shades of his room , which were automatically by the way, thank you Mozzie, he had a stunning view of the mountains. There were no other chalets nearby so they had all the privacy they needed for Neal to heal and become more mobile. With Neal needing a walker just for a few steps, it would be almost impossible to travel unnoticed. So they needed to go to ground and stay there until Neal was back to his fighting weight. Their former patron had paid up, so they were OK for a couple of months anyway.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Peter was cleared for travel, he was repatriated back to the States. He also realized he was in no shape to go after Neal, so he was OK with it.

He had learned that Neal had been transferred to another hospital on doctor orders, but when Interpol checked there was no doctor Hautbrunner, so it was probably one of Neal´s accomplishes.

The doctor that had treated Neal had explained to Peter that Neal had a complicated open leg fracture that had been set by placing a titanium rod in his leg, it would take him at least four months to recovery from an injury like that.

So Neal would be out of the game for a while. Oh well, Peter would be ready when he resurfaced. He would give the kid a break. He did turn back to try to safe Peter. Once the headaches started to clear up, his memory also had returned and he remembered the moment Neal had offered him the granola bar, Peter´s mind made the click, he had seen Konstantin before, in front of a bank in New York; He had handed him a lollipop. The moment Neal saw that Peter recognized him, he had skied away to a part of tief snee in the hope, Peter couldn´t follow. And if Peter had thought it through, he wouldn´t have followed Neal, but he hadn´t thought and with his inexperience had set of the avalanche. He remembered Neal turning and trying to shout to Peter to go to the side. If he hadn´t turned he would never had been caught up in the avalanche and he had been home free. Peter had also learned from the rescuers that he had been found so fast because of the Recco Neal had been wearing. Of course, he had never gotten in that situation if it wasn´t for Neal.

While Peter was resting on his couch with Satchmo at his feet and the TV on a ball game, he wondered what Neal was doing.

When the door bell rang, Peter stiffly got up, took his cane and made his way to the door, shouting that he was coming.

It turned out to be the postman, he had a delivery that needed to be signed for, so Peter signed and asked the postman to place it on the coffee table, as he couldn´t carry the card board box with his walking cane. The postman left closing the door behind him and Peter sat down with a sigh.

“Who would this be from, hé Satchmo?”

Peter opened the card board box and inside was a wooden box, it looked like wine bottles, but when Peter opened them, they turned out to be some micro brewery beers. There was also a card. It was a small painting showing a view of Zermatt with the Matterhorn in the background. On the back was a message.

“ _Sorry I couldn´t prevent you from getting hurt.”_

No signature, it wasn´t exactly a mystery who had send this. Peter checked the postage, it was send from Finland. It was improbable Neal was in Finland, so no clue there.

Peter picked up the card again and studied the painted scenery. He suddenly laughed. In the picture he could recognize El and himself, they were walking hand in hand in the street. And in the street was a man turned away from them, but he recognized the man as Neal. The man was looking in the window of a jeweler. Peter smiled and placed the card against the box and made himself comfortable again on the couch. He could relax. Neal was OK if he sent this. He could imagine Neal painting in the snow.

They would see each other soon enough.

 

_Ende_


End file.
